I thought the end of our twenties was when we started to “discover” ourselves. Then why am I still walking around like a chicken with my head cut off? Half the time I leave a conversation thinking to myself “Did I really just say that out loud?” The other half of the time I wonder what am I doing? How did I get here?
Where is my self realization like on the movies? I am waiting for the montage of my life to flash in front of my eyes (with a Bryan Adam’s song playing in the background) and for everything I have done to make sudden sense to me. I am missing that a ha moment.
The difference about not knowing what you were doing when you were nineteen and twenty-eight, is when I was nineteen the unknown was fun. I didn’t know what I was doing and I was okay with that. I just went along for the ride and couldn’t wait to see where it took me. Now, at twenty-eight, I don’t like the unknown. I need security and assurance. Okay, now I am sounding more like I am seventy year old. But you know what I mean. I can’t afford to be carefree. I want to start “living” my adult life. I don’t want to be a kid anymore.
Maybe our thirties is where is all begins. I really could use the instruction manual of life. Let me know if you find it.
E
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